Page 98 of The Masked King

When they move on, I rise first, help her onto her feet and point to the open doorway at the far end. “Run!”

We both sprint, gunfire following us in the surrounding rooms, sporadically as if tracking our movements blindly.

It doesn’t feel right. If Gio came with an army, he wouldn’t stop until he’d taken down every last fucking one of them… Unless they’re hiding, biding their time till he has walked into the trap and they can wipe him out in one fell swoop.

Malevsky was quick to lock us in the piano room when Gio arrived. Too quick. I didn’t question it because I was focused on freeing Demi and Bianca, but replaying his parting words in my head, I don’t buy it. He already had the audience he’d been waiting for: me. He could’ve lit the fire and gone after Gio knowing he was the only surviving Sabatelli, but instead, he gave us the opportunity to flee.

Why?

It hits me like a crippling punch in the gut, leaving me winded and breathless.

Gio was the target all along.

He knew my brother wouldn’t take his family and leave me behind; it isn’t in our blood to run from danger. He targeted me because he saw me as the weakest link, mooning after Demi, drinking myself into oblivion, taking risks because they made me feel alive. But there’s nothing I can give Malevsky that he can’t find from a hundred other privileged assholes with a healthy bank balance and the right contacts.

Gio, however, is like Rumpelstiltskin, turning everything he touches to gold.

I’m not revenge.

I’m the sacrifice.

The room at the end of the hallway is empty as I knew it would be. Malevsky kept me alive because, dead, I served no purpose. He allowed Gio and his army inside the house for the same reason: we’re all a part of whatever game he’s playing, and he’s moving us into place before he calls checkmate.

Which means we’re exactly where he wants us to be.

“Enzo?” Demi watches me with narrow eyes. “They’ve stopped.”

Anyone could be fooled into thinking that the house is empty, were it not for the bullet holes in the hallway behind us. Malevsky might enjoy playing games, but he’ll attack when the time is right, and I’d wager my life that Gio and his men fired the shots we just heard while the Russians are building up to the finale.

“I want you to stay here.” I see it in her eyes, the fear that I’ll walk away from her and never come back, and I wish I could promise to stay alive, if only long enough to put things right between us. “I’ll be back.” It’s the best I can do.

“Where are you going?”

“To find my brother.” I pull her against me and remember how our bodies always molded together so perfectly, like we were made for each other. “Stay out of sight and keep this ready.” I point to the gun.

She nods, and fuck, all her mannerisms and gestures come flooding back to me as if we’ve never been apart.

With a small smile, I step back into the hallway and listen to the sounds of the house lying in wait. I don’t know how, but my gut is telling me that Gio is waiting behind one of these closed doors, probably as flummoxed as I am about Malevsky’s intentions. But whether we’re playing into his hands or not, I’ll take my chances alongside Gio rather than alone.

Here goes… One way or another, in about five seconds time, I’ll know if my gut has let me down or not.

“I’m Enzo Sabatelli,” I call out, “and I’m unarmed.”

I fix my stare at a spot on the door directly in front of me, waiting for it to be blown to smithereens and take me with it.

By the second beat, I allow myself to draw a breath.

By the third beat, when I watch the handle move, I lower my gun and wait for my brother to appear.

Gio’s gaze tracks left and right along the hallway, gun raised to chest height, before he steps forward and pulls me into a hug. “I’ll save the argument for later,” he says, releasing me. “Where are they?”

“Good to see you too, brother.” I give him a half-smile. “I assume you mean our Bratva friends. I was going to ask you the same question. Malevsky was playing with fire until he figured you’d arrived, and then he vanished in a cloud of smoke.”

Gio’s eyes narrow. “Demi?” Megan must’ve told him.

“I’m right here.” Demi runs along the hallway and hugs Gio. “Will you please tell your brother that he can’t take on the Bratva single-handedly?”

She steps away from Gio and leans against me, and my good arm curls around her shoulders from muscle memory.